One Day at a Time
by pastries and turtlenecks
Summary: It all started with a cough.


It all started with a cough.

"Are you alright?" James asked, leaning over in bed and squinting to make out his boyfriend's face in the darkness.

"I'm -" _cough,_ "I'm fine," Chris replied breathlessly, rolling onto his side to give James a smile. He felt around for the other man's hand and laced their fingers together. James noticed almost immediately that Chris's was cold and clammy. "Go back to sleep."

They lay like that for a moment, the only sounds the whirring of the ceiling fan and Chris's slightly labored breathing. "You sick?" James chimed in after a few moments.

The smaller man began rubbing his thumb over the back of James's hand. "It's probably just a cold." _Cough._ "I'll take something for it in the morning. You worry too much." He scooted forward and kissed James on the forehead, barely managing to duck his head when he erupted in another fit of coughs.

James wanted to protest, but decided it would be best to just let the other man sleep. He probably was looking too far into things, anyway.

Until he noticed the weight loss.

"Have you been working out?" James asked one morning, watching Chris stretch to reach the Coffee Mate on the top shelf, as usual. _'We really should keep that on a lower shelf,' _he mused.

Chris barely managed to snatch the bottle from its perch and set it down on the counter. "Have you ever seen me set foot in a gym?" he replied, glancing over his shoulder before going back to fixing his morning coffee.

James shrugged, giving the man a once-over before continuing. "I dunno, you just seem a little skinnier, is all," he said nonchalantly. Having been twig-like to begin with, Chris probably couldn't afford to lose any more weight. "A lot skinnier, actually." James took a few steps forward, slowly closing the gap between them. "Have I, have I always been able to see your shoulder blades like that?" he asked, worry evident in his voice.

Chris paused, set down the coffee pot, and awkwardly craned his neck in an attempt to see his own back. His shoulder blades, usually barely visible under a layer of muscle, were protruding more obviously than ever before, each fine groove and plane clearly visible. "Would you look at that," he said after a moment, before returning to his coffee. "Maybe I haven't been eating enough lately. I'll get on that."

James wanted to leave it at that, to share the other man's carefree attitude, but he couldn't stop the nagging feeling of unrest in the back of his mind. He slowly walked forward, wrapped his arms around Chris's thin waist, and leaned his head over his shoulder to look him in the eye. "You're sure you're alright?"

Chris laughed softly, turned his head, and kissed James lightly. "I told you, I'm fine. Stop worrying so much, you're too young to get wrinkles."

James couldn't help but notice the slight tremor in the smaller man's voice. He hated hearing him sound like anything but his usual chipper, if a little sheepish, self. "Alright," he said, trying to sound positive. "You're probably right. Hey, easy on the creamer, save some for the rest of us," he teased. If he didn't worry, Chris wouldn't worry.

That didn't stop other people from worrying.

"Alone again?" Kevin Price remarked one afternoon, setting out a bowl of popcorn for the ex-missionary's weekly movie night, this week being hosted at the McKinley-Price apartment. "That's two weeks in a row; you and Poptarts fighting or something?" Connor McKinley shot his husband a look for being so blunt.

James shook his head. "No, Chris's been sick. He's been having these weird fevers on and off, like clockwork. One day he's fine, the next, he's burning up, but only at night. Then he's fine, and then he's not." He kept his voice steady through the explanation, something he'd worked on for the past few weeks.

Arnold Cunningham stopped digging into the popcorn for a moment and spoke. "You sure you should have left him alone like that?" he asked cautiously.

James shrugged. "He was fine when I left, but he didn't want to get sick halfway through and ruin the movie. And he was really insistent that I go and have fun." He held up his cell phone and scrolled through his text messages. "Even still, I'm having him send me hourly updates, and I told him I'd come home at the drop of a hat if he needs anything."

Kevin nodded, haphazardly carrying a few too many cans of soda over to the table. "How long has this been happening?" he asked, joining Connor on the loveseat.

James thought for a moment, reluctantly recalling all of Chris's ailments. "About two weeks now. Before this, he had a little cough, but that went away after a day or two. He's been losing some weight, too, so I've been making sure he's eating enough."

Nabulungi sat down next to Arnold, who wrapped an arm around her almost immediately. "You are a good boyfriend," she began, accent still thick even after having lived in the states for a while, "but this could be something serious. Have you taken him to a doctor?"

James stiffened. "Every time I suggest it, he tells me he's fine, and to stop worrying."

The other four exchanged glances, before Connor tentatively spoke up. "Gosh, James, I'd really hate to be the pessimistic one," he said slowly, his voice a mix of comfort and apprehension, "but aren't these the same symptoms his sister was showing, before…" He trailed off, knowing the other man would get his meaning.

James sat frozen, eyes darting between each of his friend's faces. As Connor's words sunk in, he felt his hastily thrown-together poker face begin to weaken. A single sentence from a conversation the missionaries had shared towards the beginning of their mission replayed in his head – _'The fear that I might get cancer, too.' _ Finally, he snatched his phone off the table, got to his feet, and headed for the door. "I have to go," he mumbled on his way out.

* * *

"Hodgkin's lymphoma." Chris repeated the doctor's diagnosis in a flat voice, and felt James's grip on his hand tighten. "You're sure?"

The doctor nodded, reading over her clipboard. "We ruled out various infections with the lymph node biopsy, and the blood work just confirmed it. It's still manageable, as it's only in stage IIA. We have a few less aggressive treatments, but considering your family's history with the disease, I recommend we start you on chemotherapy soon."

Chris nodded, eyes downcast. After a moment, he glanced up at the doctor. "I understand. Could we be alone for a bit?" The doctor hooked her clipboard to the end of Chris's bed and walk out without a word.

The pair sat quietly for a moment, just solemnly staring at each other, before Chris asked, "You alright?"

James smiled briefly, but it was forced and fake. "I should be asking you the same thing," he said, scooting his chair a bit closer to the bed, not once letting his grip on Chris's hand weaken.

Chris shrugged, and James didn't like the air of nonchalance his boyfriend had about him. "I guess I had a feeling this would happen. Once I realized I was going through what Emma went through, I figured it was only a matter of time."

James leaned forward, eyes shining, willing his tears not to fall. "Why didn't you say anything? Why did I have to rush home from Kevin and Connor's to find you collapsed on the floor before you would let me take you to a hospital?"

"You're hurting my hand, babe," Chris began, and James loosened the death grip he hadn't realized he had on the other man's hand. "I just didn't want you to worry, I guess," he said, reluctantly meeting James's gaze.

James shook his head, letting out a soft, dry laugh. "Christopher Thomas, you are such an idiot sometimes." Chris flashed a confused look. "You know I don't like it when you keep stuff like this from me. Promise you won't do that anymore?"

Chris took a deep breath before letting his lips curl into a small smile. "I promise."

They sat like that for a few minutes, just holding onto each other, enjoying the company. James could've sworn his heart broke in two when he felt Chris's ever-strong hand begin to tremble.

"So where do we go from here?" the smaller man asked, tentatively breaking the silence.

"I guess we just take things one day at a time," James replied softly. He didn't know what else there was to say.


End file.
